Nobody spoke for several seconds; but those of the scouts who were in the crowd looked at each other with gathering frowns. They saw instantly that, according to the rules of the game, if one of the contestants accepted a chance to ride, or even was induced against his will to be carried over a part of the course in an auto, a wagon, or any conveyance whatever, he would invalidate his chances.

"It's a rotten shame, that's what!" declared Larry Billings who belonged to the Beaver Patrol, and pinned his faith on either Matty Eggleston or Red Huggins carrying off the prize, for party faith was strong in the troop.

"Just what you might expect from Fairfield!" cried another disgusted one.

"Hold on, don't say that!" said Elmer, holding up his hand. "There are decent fellows over there, just as there are in Hickory Ridge; and in both places you can find some mean ones. Didn't you hear Toby and Nat say that this contemptible game didn't crop up in the ranks of the scouts of Fairfield, but some rank outsiders, who think they are doing their mates a good turn, when in fact it's the worst thing they could hatch up? Even if they win the prize it will always be tarnished; and people will say it would have come to Hickory Ridge troop only for foul play."

A clamor of many tongues broke loose. Everybody seemed to want to air his or her views; and the girls were just as indignant as any of the boys in denouncing the outrage.

"Here, you'll have to let up on that, friends, or else I'll take the boys inside the church to talk with them," called Elmer, waving his campaign hat with a show of authority.

"Keep still, everybody!"

"Give us a chance to think!"

"Let Elmer run it; he knows what to do!"

"Sure; and he'll do it, too, you bet. I'm sorry for them four Fairfield bullies. They're going to be up against it good and hard, right quick now!"

Gradually the racket ceased, and Elmer could talk again. Those who were close enough leaned forward to listen, eager to understand just what plan the young assistant scout master would engineer in the absence of Mr. Garrabrant, with the idea of frustrating the clever if unscrupulous scheme of the enemy.

It was a time that called for prompt action, as Elmer well understood. If one of the Hickory Ridge scouts was well in the lead, doubtless those four schemers in the automobile would, by the time night came on, start operations. Whether the victim was Lil Artha, or any one of the others, he could not successfully hold his own against four stout fellows. And having once dragged him into the car, they meant to carry him many miles along the route; dumping him out after they had "played hob," as Nat expressed it, with all his chances.

Elmer thought fast. He had his motorcycle ready, and knew that in all probability he could readily head off the game, unless it was rushed through without waiting for night to fall.

The only thing that bothered him was the fact that he would be just one against four; and in such a case he might suffer the same fate it was intended to mete out to the leader in the race.

If only the machines of Nat and Toby could be depended on now, there was nothing to prevent his taking the boys along; and he felt confident that both of them were in a humor to accept at the drop of the hat. Filled with indignation at the mean nature of the trick which those Fairfield fellows had up their sleeve, and which they doubtless considered smart, Toby and his mate would be only too glad of the chance to accompany the scout leader on his mission of rescue.

"How about your gas?" he asked, turning to the boys; and it would seem as if they understood just what the question implied, for a look of delight took the place of the frown that had marked both faces.

"Heaps!" cried Toby, grinning.

"Filled mine just this morning, enough for seventy miles, and I haven't gone more than thirteen!" declared Nat, also newly excited at the joyous prospect.

"Then let's get a start away from here," Elmer called, for the noise had begun again, and it was difficult to carry on any sort of a conversation with comfort. "Anyhow, we can drop out of town a few miles, and then stop to consult."

"Wow! That's the ticket, Elmer!" exclaimed Toby, making a rush for his machine.

"Bully! Bully all around! I'm on deck, Johnny on the spot. Won't we do 'em up brown though, if we only ketch 'em," cried Nat, rather forgetting that as a scout fighting was only to be resorted to as a last thing, and then in defense of another rather than himself.

When the crowd saw the three getting ready to mount, they went fairly wild; and every imaginable sort of exhortation was shouted. The news had circulated like wild-fire, and everyone knew in some sort of hazy way that the bullies of Fairfield were aiming to break up the great hike.

"Get 'em, Elmer!"

"Oh, you Fairfield crowd, we're sorry for you!"

"Pinch 'em, Elmer! Knock the skunks into the middle of next week!"

"You can do it, Elmer, we know you can! Give the rascals the best licking they ever had! It's been a long time coming; hand 'em the interest that's due!"

Evidently these last remarks did not come from any fellow in khaki, since they had been learning other things from the day they signed the roster of the scouts. But even Elmer himself was thrilled with indignation; it seemed so mean and contemptible in those Fairfield boys to want to spoil the greatest hike contest that had ever been started.

The machine that had been loaned to him was in good trim; and, moreover, Elmer knew considerable about managing a motorcycle, though he had never as yet owned one.

He started his engine without the least difficulty, and then jumped into the saddle with the grace of one who had long since mastered the art. The crowd opened up before him, and Elmer sped along the road.

"Oh, you Indian, I bank on you!" called one of the enthusiastic town fellows.

"Hi! Get a move on you, Toby and Nat!"

"Give the old wrecks a poke in the slats, and make 'em be good!"

"There goes Toby! Good boy, you!"

"Now, Nat will you let that dare slip by? Hit her up, Nathan; that's the ticket!"

"Whoopla! We're all off!"

In this fashion did they call out, with other remarks which space would not admit of our printing. Nat had had a little trouble in making the start, since his engine must have cooled down more or less; but after a little fussing he managed to coax his battered old machine into emitting a few rattling volleys, and then suddenly launched forward.

Passing a mile or so down the road, Elmer threw up his hand in the way drivers have of telling that they mean to either turn aside or else stop, and which is a warning for those who may be following to look sharp.

Then, picking out a place where they could stand the heavy machines up against a rail fence, he came to a halt, stepped off, and awaited the coming of the others.

"What happened?" exclaimed Toby, as he, too, reached the spot and dismounted.

"Had a puncture, or spark gone back on you?" demanded Nat, when he, too, came booming along, to make a sudden halt and straddle his balky machine while he talked.

"Nothing happened," returned Elmer; "but before we start off we want to make sure it isn't going to be a wild-goose chase."

"But we heard that talk, and we don't think they could have been kidding; because you see none of 'em dreamed we were near by," Toby declared, vehemently.

"That may be all true enough," Elmer said, "and at the same time, unless we know just what we aim to do, we may make a bad mess of it. Now, did you learn anything that would tell just where they expected to hold our fellow up, in case he was in the lead?"

"Why, no, of course not, Elmer," replied Toby. "You see, that would have to depend altogether on how far the race had gone. It might be thirty miles away from the start, and it might be less."

"Right. And we'll have to follow along the course in order to get ahead. Here, we can put in a few minutes to good advantage studying my map. I've got an idea that by taking the Glenville short-cut road we can save five miles easy. Perhaps there may be some other ways of cutting the distance down. We looked after that when we arranged the stations."

"Look here, Elmer, don't you think it might be a good idea for us to go right along to the first station, and see if there has been any late news from the front?" asked Nat.

"Gee, that sounds like we were in a regular battle!" declared Toby, his face aglow with eagerness, as he awaited the scout leader's reply.

"A fine suggestion, Nat, and we'll do it, just as soon as we've glimpsed this map again," observed the one addressed, as he sat down by the roadside and drew a folded package from his pocket.

Elmer had made these road maps himself from one he found in the house. They were rather cleverly done, and showed every road, with the distances properly marked, all the way to Little Falls. Besides, they had the various taverns, where stations had been established, carefully marked in red ink, so that no one could complain that he lacked information.

Running a finger along the route, Elmer quickly showed where in two places they could, if they wanted, leave the main road and take advantage of short cuts that must save them quite a number of miles.

"But after all," he said, shaking his head, as he glanced at the motorcycles of his comrades, "it might be a case of saving at the spigot and wasting at the bunghole."

"How's that, Elmer?" asked Toby, perplexed.

"Well, we don't know what shape these side roads may be in after that heavy rain night before last," he answered, folding up the map.

"That's a fact!" ejaculated Toby; "and neither of us thought about that for even a minute. Say, Nat, those roads are only dirt ones, and not macadamized a single bit. Perhaps we wouldn't have a warm old time jolting along over 'em, eh? I can just imagine your old omnibus going out of commission before you made a quarter of a mile."

"Well, I admit that's so; but that would be about twice as far as your rattlebox would carry you, Toby," the other remarked, with a sting in his words.

But, then, when together they usually occupied much of their time, when not engaged in waiting to make repairs, in poking fun at each other's motorcycle; so that there was little venom to the sting. It had all been threshed out time and time again.

"Do we tune up now, Elmer?" asked Toby, as he prepared for a flying start, that would make his companion turn green with envy.

For answer Elmer took hold of his machine, manipulated the lever, and as the engine started to throb, jumped into the saddle, much to the envy of both the others, who could never depend on doing anything as they planned.

However, they managed to get moving, though Elmer had to slow up at the next bend in order to let them come along. He believed he would need the assistance these two stout scouts were capable of affording; and but for that must have been tempted to put on speed and leave them far in the lurch to wrestle with their various troubles as best they might.

So they sped along. Now and then something would happen to one of the old machines and cause a delay. Thanks to the presence of Elmer, who knew more about machinery than either of the others, even though they had owned motorcycles for years, these troubles were adjusted in an unusually short time. Had it been otherwise, Elmer must have felt compelled to abandon his running mates, since minutes were valuable to him just then.

They presently came in sight of a road house, which Elmer understood was the first on the list of stations. He also remembered that one of the scouts had been detailed to remain at this place, to use the phone as a sort of relay station, and transmit any message from farther up the road.

"We'll hold up here a little while, boys," he remarked, as he shut off power and prepared to bring his machine to a full stop. "Perhaps the news from up the road may be worth listening to. Pull in and jump off. There's Hen Condit in the doorway right now, beckoning to us."